


Photographs

by delta_ori



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abandonment, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Not Beta Read, Sad Keith (Voltron), Written before Season 6, vent fic, well like emotionally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_ori/pseuds/delta_ori
Summary: Keith was standing before he even realized he’d moved. His blood felt like it was on fire; it was almost like he went blind with anger. He felt himself swing his arm through the air in a wild arch, fingers uncurling and sending the disc to the ground. It bounced around the room like a game of pinball, from the floor to the wall and then sailing to the other side of the room, where it finally skidded to a stop. The holographic slideshow continued innocently, durable alien technology unbothered by the abuse.





	Photographs

**Author's Note:**

> heyooo!! this is the first fic I am posting here. its a vent fic that got seriously out of control, and I decided to post it because I'm tired of my account being empty. so here goes nothing

He sat in the darkness of his room, staring at the violet light-runners against the bottom of the opposite wall. He turned the small device in his upturned hand over and over again, wrist resting on his lap. It was round like a disc, thick as a hockey puck, no bigger than the palm of his hand, with smooth edges. A sole button was embedded into the side.

***

 

Three days had passed since Keith and his mother had returned to base. He gave Kolivan his mission report and was proud of how calm and professional he was.

 

“Is there anything else you would like to say to me?” Kolivan asked, face set in its usual blank scowl, but if Keith didn’t know any better he would have thought the Blade Leader sounded apprehensive. Keith could feel his mother’s eyes watching them both from behind him. They were expecting emotion and questions and yelling. The typical behavior of young, stupid, and hotheaded Keith the Earthling who never even belonged on Earth.

 

“No,” Keith said, gaze focused on the star map behind Kolivan’s head. “May I be dismissed? I’m tired.”

 

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment he thought someone was going to speak up. However, Kolivan just nodded his head, and Keith walked through the door and to his bunk without ever looking back.

 

He left his room only for the necessities. He showered at the start of every day cycle. After that, it was to the mess hall, where he ate as much as his broken appetite would allow and ignore the eyes that stared at him with longing energy from across the room. Then it was back to his bunk to stare at the wall or hide his face in his pillow or tell Ilun he was too tired when she would come knocking for a sparring partner. At dinner time he would eat only a bite or two of a ration bar, ignore those same eyes, and then head to Kolivan’s office to listen to a briefing on Voltron this, Empire that, Knowledge or Death. Finally, it was back to his bed to toss and turn and sit around in the dark. Hardly any sleeping occurred.

 

It was evening of the third day when his mess hall stalker finally approached him. She had cornered him on his way back to his bunk, nervous and determined.

 

“Here,” Krolia said, and a hand was thrust into Keith’s line of sight, blocking his view of his own shuffling feet. “I want you to have this.”

 

Keith kept his arms down by his sides. “You don’t have to give me something every time you leave on a mission.”

 

His mother’s voice was strong and steady, and it made something in his chest pinch. “I told you, Keith, I am not going anywhere. Not without you.” She reached forward and took one of his hands, turning it upwards. “I just want you to see.”

 

She placed the little disk in his palm, curling his fingers around it and cradling his hand with both of her own. They were warm and soft, and he stared at how the deep purple of her skin contrasted against the paleness of his own. When he said nothing in response, she let go and walked away toward her own room.

 

Keith waited until she reached the end of the hall before calling out to her. “What even  _ is _ it?”

 

Galra didn’t really smile, not as often as humans, but something about her face was open and honest anyway. “Photographs.”

***  
  


Sitting in the darkness of his room, he pushed his thumb down on the button.

 

Light streamed from the lens on the top of the disk, expanding into a hologram suspended in front of his face, about the size of a tablet screen. The image was of a newborn, swaddled in a pastel yellow blanket with a blue beanie on their head, resting in a nest of pillows. They were sleeping, dark eyelashes resting against chubby cheeks. Hair poked up from under the hat, wispy and black.

 

The image changed automatically, like a slideshow. There was not much difference with this next one, except for the purple hand— as long as at least three-fourths of the infant’s body— resting gently on top of the swaddled baby.

 

Realization snatched the air out of his lungs.  _ That’s me. _

 

The slideshow continued. Newborn Keith being cradled to his mother’s chest, tiny hand grasping her index finger. Newborn Keith being kissed on his forehead by his father, neck supported by his hand. Newborn Keith with his eyes open, gazing at his parents behind the camera.

***  
  


Baby pictures, like family, were always something that everyone else had and Keith never would. Dad didn’t seem to care for taking pictures, not that he was around much to do so. None of his foster parents had any desire to keep  _ him _ , let alone any photos. 

 

Back when he and the other paladins first began their crazy journey through deep space, Lance had whipped out his phone as they all sat together in the common room of the Castle of Lions, showing everyone photos of his parents, his siblings, his grandparents, his little niece and nephew, even past crushes from high school. Some were selfies Lance took with others, some were professional photos he had saved. A couple had even been taken by his niece and nephew in moments he had let them play with his phone. Keith remembers the one of Lance’s mother with her arms around him, giving him a big smooch on the cheek, while Lance himself beamed at the camera, acceptance letter to the Galaxy Garrison held aloft proudly.

 

Hunk and Pidge were quick to join the fun, showing pictures of their families and friends. Allura and Coran were intrigued by images of life on Earth, and had so many questions. Shiro looked on contentedly, but he eventually noticed Keith sitting quietly and trying to make himself invisible. Keith felt his stomach twist when Shiro caught his gaze with sad, understanding eyes, and he fled to his room.

 

He had sat on his bed and pulled out his own phone, a hand-me-down from pre-Kerberos when Shiro was gifted a fancy new one by the Garrison. There was a giant crack in the screen from Keith dropping it on the floor a few too many times, but it still worked- not that he’d ever had anyone to call. He tapped the camera app and looked at the few photos saved. A panorama of the view from the front porch of his desert shack. A snapshot of the whiteboard of one of his classes, on which his professor had written that night’s homework. A photo of a high-end hoverbike he had come across in a grocery store parking lot. A few selfies taken by Shiro (the old one, with all-black hair and tanned skin and a baby face), with Keith in the background studying from a textbook, none the wiser to the funny faces his friend was pulling for the camera. 

 

He felt his face heat up with shame. He wanted so badly for the other paladins to like him, to see that he was not so different from them, to not think he was some weird little freak that not even his own parents could want. But no matter what he did or where he went he was reminded of how alone he was. It was like the word  _ orphan _ was tattooed on his forehead. Even something as small as the camera roll on his cellphone gave him away.

***  
  


There were more on the little disc. Baby Keith pouting up at the camera, the arm of a plush hippo held tightly in his fist. Baby Keith laughing as his hands explored his father’s face, the man’s nose scrunched up comically. Baby Keith drooling as he chewed on a ring of colorful, plastic keys. Baby Keith sleeping, his mother curled protectively around him as she watched him. The look in her eyes was soft and fond and happy. It was so wrong. People don’t look at  _ Keith _ that way.

 

These photographs of this little infant being doted on by his parents...it felt like Keith was looking at someone else’s life. Keith wasn’t  _ wanted _ . Nobody went out of their way to let him know he was something precious. In fact, most of the adults in his life made a point of telling him he was worthless, one way or another. Unlikeable, too angry, too cold, always fighting, too stupid, always crying. This baby was being so reverently handled and hugged and kissed like some kind of gift from above. Like he was  _ loved _ . It wasn’t him. It  _ couldn’t _ be.

 

Keith was standing before he even realized he’d moved. His blood felt like it was on fire; it was almost like he went blind with anger. He felt himself swing his arm through the air in a wild arch, fingers uncurling and sending the disc to the ground. It bounced around the room like a game of pinball, from the floor to the wall and then sailing to the other side of the room, where it finally skidded to a stop. The holographic slideshow continued innocently, durable alien technology unbothered by the abuse. 

 

The ringing in his ears finally began to fade and was replaced by the sound of his heavy breathing. He felt the rage begin to trickle out of his veins, leaving him feeling drained and low and downright  _ small. _ The baby in the photographs taunted him endlessly with its big, happy smile.  _ Why are you so fucking happy?  _ The Ugly Voice of his Darkest Thoughts was louder than it had been in years-- and directed at a helpless infant this time. _ Don’t you know what’s going to happen to you? What people think of you? And you think you deserve to  _ **_smile?_ ** _ Pathetic. Useless. This is why everyone found it so easy to hurt you. _

 

He picked the disc up off the floor, pressing the button to plunge the room back into darkness. He picked his knife, still sheathed, up from where he had placed it on the bed. He walked out of the room into the corridor, steps quiet.

 

Kolivan glared from behind his desk when Keith stepped into his office without so much as knocking. The leader was still working despite how late it was in the base’s sleep cycle, and Keith briefly wondered if he even slept at all. He cast the thought aside.

 

Keith moved until he stood right in front of Kolivan, the large, grey desk between them. Neither spoke as Keith placed his blade—the one he’d had for his entire life, the one that had been such a huge part of his identity— down in the center of the desk.

 

“She can have it back if she wants,” Keith knew he didn’t have to specify. “I’ll hitch a ride with a supply shuttle in the morning.” Kolivan did not say anything in response, just stared with a face that was even more unreadable than usual, so Keith turned around and walked out the door.

 

He made his way back through the labyrinth of halls to the sleeping quarters. There were a few Blades still awake in the small common room, and they thankfully minded their own business (in typical Blade fashion) as Keith passed through. He entered the corridor lined with doors leading to bedrooms, turning left. He almost lost his nerve when he passed by his own, fighting the urge to slink inside and hide until day-cycle arrived and he could stow away in the cargo bay of a ship headed to anywhere-but-here. But he kept walking.

 

His knock on the door was answered almost immediately. She clearly hadn’t been sleeping, clear-eyed and still in uniform. He ignored the way she seemed to perk up at the sight of him. She stepped to the side to allow him entry, and he had to forced one foot in front of the other, because he wanted very badly to run away. He wanted to go back to orphanhood, where trust couldn’t be broken if you had nobody to give it to, and the dull pain of loneliness was as familiar as his own shadow. Who was he without this? He had no idea how to be someone’s son. And he wasn’t going to be.

 

They stood facing each other in the low light of her room, heavy silence stretching between them. He kept his gaze pointed toward the floor, but he could feel the weight of her curious stare. She was always staring, like she couldn’t get enough of seeing his face and it was so  _ strange _ and he would be so glad to be away from it come morning.

 

He didn’t speak, didn’t know what he would say even if he wanted to, so he just held out his fist. Krolia patiently put her open palm underneath, letting him place the disc down into her hand. He watched her run her clawed thumb reverently over the top, before clutching it tightly and bringing it close to her chest. The look in her eyes was far away, as if she did not even need to look at the disc’s contents--she had them memorized. Keith realized that it was truly something precious to her.

 

Keith’s stomach was churning and there was a tightness in the muscles of his face. He fought hard to swallow and force his throat to stop constricting. He hoped she wouldn’t notice that his eyes were stinging. She looked back at his face and her expression shifted into one of concern. Too late.

 

That was all it took: the fact that not only was he weak enough to cry, but in front of his super spy mother, sent it all rushing in like high tide. He was angry at himself for caring that he was such a disappointment to her. He didn’t want to care about her opinion, but he did anyway and it was just another cause of his heart collapsing in his chest.

 

He brought his hand to his face, reflexively hiding himself as the first tears squeezed out of his eyes. The corners of his mouth downturned against his will, a sob bubbling up from his chest like a cough. He wished he could just sink through the floor and float away into outer space. The only thing keeping him from running and taking a fighter jet was the fact that his feet seemed rooted to the ground. Everything was too much. He was so full of sadness and so empty of everything else.

 

There were arms around him, strong and steady. A hand was pressing his face into the crook of her neck. Despite the uncomfortable angle of his bent arm trapped between them, he felt enveloped with warmth. She smelled of something otherworldly, and yet it triggered a memory inside him. One without words, or sight, but a sensation. Safety. Peace.

 

“I love you, Keith.” Krolia murmured into his hair, pressing her cheek into the top of his head.

 

It had seemed so impossible that he would ever hear his own mother saying those words. Keith didn’t know if he believed her.

 

He didn’t know if he ever would.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave any concrit in the comments, something about this is off to me :/ ?
> 
> edit: just wanted to thank e everyone for their support!! I was really nervous about posting my first fic but everyone has been so uplifting so thank you <3


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